I mowed at Mother’s last Wednesday or Thursday and yesterday, when we took Shane and Sydney up there to romp and to share charcoaled hot dogs and brats with us, we had to mow again. Zounds! And bushes are growing longer tentacles to grab me as the mower skirted them. Do you know I found tons of leaf debris inside my shirt and underwear? Well, I guess you do now. The other day I found a little green wormie bug, but I didn’t want to tell Summer about it because then she would probably mow no closer than 20 feet to any foliage.

We now have HEAT – for us. It was close to 90 degrees. (Yes, I keep forgetting to locate the degree symbol on the optional keyboard) But back to the temperature: ALMOST 90. We were HOT. Well, not August Dog Days hot – the air wasn’t laden with moisture. But after highs in the low 50’s last week, it was hot.

And the stuff with Mother’s estate is on the front burner, now . . . and kind of boiling over.  You know, the things that I filed under procrastination.

We are adapting here with Shane, or maybe Shane is adapting to us. Frankly, I find the sound of the loudly squeaking Wubba comforting – it says Shane is close by and Shane is enjoying himself. I believe I will record the Wubba-ing, maybe even film it. Perhaps we should play along with our home-made instruments – or we could send him over to the Bluegrass festival at the fairgrounds.

We took Shane to Mother’s yesterday – we being Cameron and I. We had the leash that is like an infinite slinky; we had a 30-foot aircraft cable; we had the “when all else fails, squeak the Wubba toy.  He was so good in backyard, we were able to let him off leash and he followed Cameron around. They had a long spell of Wubba fetching while I finished up a tiny bit of mowing and then we went onto the front porch to sip drinks and snack. I put the red aircraft cable around a tall pine tree outside by the porch steps and we left the door open so Shane could come in and out at will. Then we all spent some time out front . . . and he was so good.

Well, one time he ran across the road to look at the neighbors’ little dogs and we lectured him up one side and down the other. Then we were playing Wubba in the west side yard and all of a sudden Shane took off toward the road. Cameron made a tackle . . . Shane slipped through and ran right into the back side of a mini-van driven by a Mennonite lady who turned around and came back to see what had happened.

It was the THUMP that got everyone’s attention.

We hurried Shane into the car and headed for the LaGrange Small Animal Clinic where Miss Alice and Lucy Lib and Tippy and Tiffany and Little One went with Mother. The vet checked him over and said he thought he was fine, and to prevent soreness gave him a shot of anti-inflammatory and some pills for the same purpose.

We talked about Miss Alice and Daddy and Mother and Miss Alice’s ashes and I started to cry from the stress of Shane and the memories of Miss Alice and Daddy and Mother. Cameron patted my hand.

We came home and told people and then later I told Quentin and I stammered, “You said he chased cars; you didn’t say he ran INTO cars.”

Sydney and I went to Mother’s today and his feet are green from walking in the cut grass. And we took some pictures of places we think Shane will like when he comes up tomorrow.

We think he will like running on the east yard.

We also believe he will be nosing around in the grape arbor.

And, of course, a mighty tree.

Shane –  home in Indiana.

We came out of Illinois at Cairo after descending through the Shawnee National Forest – and interstate with trees on both sides and sometimes in a larger than usual median strip. We saw the bridge from one ridge and then wound our way to it – up and over and we were on flat land stretching out on both sides. And then it got flatter and the trees farther apart – flatter and, I think, lower. I found it eerie, with trees that became increasingly like telephone poles with short little branches. All through Missouri and Arkansas – flat, flat, flat, with only haze-blurred distant mutant-looking trees.

I knew we had lost a lot of altitude but it didn’t really reach the part of my brain that was getting lost by the old Blytheville AFB and trying to keep my mind clear on the exits through Memphis to our motel. Coming back I wasn’t lost, but my mind was on the furry passenger in the back.

Finally, finally, we saw the Cairo sign again and were on the bridge and over . . . and almost immediately into dense trees. We were climbing – not too steeply, but definitely going up. I think I felt the pressure in my ears change a little and the air seemed clearer. I remember wondering if Shane were feeling an increased energy (Oh, Lord) away from the lowlands of Houston.

It rained Sunday as we were coming through Indiana; it rained and was cold on Monday. Yesterday was very chilly with showers . . . and today the sun is out and the temperature is supposed to be in the low 70’s.

I had thought I’d run up to Mother’s by myself and mow the necessary areas, but now I am thinking maybe, just maybe we need to take Shane up home; Sydney could stay here and rest and have a break from telling Shane to remember he was a “trainee”.

I have been thinking more and more about the task of cleaning in Mother’s house and today a vision of a shop vac floated into my head. So I researched them on the Internet and went out and got one. Boy, can it suck and with a two and half inch hose, things don’t get stuck. I have tested it and it pulled the carpet right up off the porch floor. So, I am going to move large things to one area, put little stuff in boxes and then turn on my sucker. Sorry about that; I meant I would turn on my vac . . . and SUCK, SUCK, SUCK. Obviously, this machine is tweaking the feral traits in me.

Heck, I wonder if I could suck up a whole mouse?

The folks here are looking at the photos we took on our trip – none of which were taken during the last day . . . the transporting Shane day. Don’t know why, unless it was me driving and Cameron continuously playing with him in the back seat.

Speaking of Cameron, I must say he proved to be a very big help and very responsible in looking after Shane’s welfare. (This morning when Shane saw Cameron was awake, he dropped his squeaky Kong Wubba on his face.)

This is the model of the house we lived in at Blytheville AFB (now Eaker); part of the housing is now the property of Westminister retirement living . . . or something like that.

This is the floor plan.

I could show you a picture of me, AmeliaJake, from those days, but it would be difficult to correspond the 2010 AJ with the 1973 floor plan.

And this is Quentin and Shane in Memphis.

Later I will post a couple of pictures of the part of the housing that has not been refurbished . . . those would have been taken before a security guard with a goatee on an angular face and a southern accent told us we shouldn’t be there. He wasn’t too understanding about my having lived there all those decades ago with a member of the Air Force who was actually in the B-52’s.

However, when I pulled out of the base onto a four-lane road and a Gossnell officer stopped me for going too fast for the posted limit, she gave me a verbal warning when I answered her question about being unfamiliar with the area with the story of long ago.

Sarah GRISMORE Eileen

This is the bag I gave Mother a couple of Christmases ago. When she was sick I loaded it up with stuff from her house and papers and whatever and when we went to the hospital with Der Bingle, I upended it and loaded it with his stuff . . . and whatever. Now it has gone to Tennessee to pick up Shane and bring him back to Indiana. I don’t know where it will be going next; I guess we will see.

We don’t have a George with us, but I couldn’t resist. I figure the founders of Mount Vernon, Illinois had GW in mind when they named the place. However, I suppose everyday a farm boy walked to this spot where a school wagon picked him up, the driver giving  the command, “Mount! Vernon.” I don’t think so, though.

We discovered Midwest policeman are forming motorcycle wolf packs. One holds a radar gun at a group of cars and others zoom out and catch them. We drove slowly and witnessed many revenue enhancing situations.

We were thinking of going down in a half hour for Kickback free food here at the motel, but I just realized we are now on CENTRAL TIME and so must add another hour on to that. That’s okay. Oh, by the way, a Steak & Shake is very, very, very close and I suspect Cameron may hike over for a milkshake tonight.

I don’t want this to get out of hand. It’s just three days. Three. And one and a half of those with an unknown dog. So I looked at the pile of stuff I had accumulated in the sitting room and decided that I am driving to Mount Vernon, Il in jeans and a shirt with many pockets. Once there I may put on a clean shirt and, depending on the temperature, shorts. At night pajama pants. The next day, probably the clean shirt from the day before and jeans (or shorts) to drive to Memphis and then a change into a sort of beat-up shirt with pockets and jeans. I might sleep in these given the factor of “the dog”.  Memo: keep the key card buttoned in one of my  shirt pockets for midnight nature outings. Then early the next morning another beat-up multi-pocket shirt . . . uh, the white cotton vented one that can be bleached –  and old khaki pants with pockets on the legs.

Well, that made the pile a lot smaller.

I hope Shane has thought this through and is packing light. Collar, leash, jammies.

Arriving home, I expect to be covered with paw prints, doggy saliva and crumbs from dog snacks – not to mention dripped condiments from drive-thru fast food.  Der Bingle sent us a portable Bissell hair eraser vacuum from amazon.com – it sort of looks like a cat.